


Just Another Drunken Bet

by naiad (iamnaiad)



Category: NSYNC
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-15
Updated: 2010-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-06 07:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamnaiad/pseuds/naiad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How hard could it be to get on reality TV anyway?  He was a famous, formerly-famous, pop star.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Drunken Bet

"Lance? Chris. I'd just like to say, that while I support your decision to come out in People and I'm overjoyed that you're happy, I hate you and you suck."

Chris threw the phone on the sofa and flipped the TV on. How hard could it be to get on reality TV anyway? He was a famous, formerly-famous, pop star. Producers were going to be fighting over his fat ass.

*

"It's not possible, dude. You have to give me something else to do." Chris popped the cap off his beer and dangled his feet in the pool.

"Oh, no. No way, dude. You are not getting out of this," Justin said.

"C'mon, J," Chris whined. "I'll do anything."

"Oh, really. Anything?"

"Yes. Anything!" Chris took a swig of beer.

"Will you move to Vermont and make me your wife?"

"Fuck off, asswipe. I'm serious here. There is no known way that I can get my sorry ass on reality TV."

"Well, who made the calls? Was it you or 'your people'?" Feedback squealed in the background.

Chris winced. "I may have been busy."

"Busy sitting on your ass," Justin said. "Make the calls yourself, dude. Give it the personal touch."

"They're gonna think I'm desperate." He had another drink as pre-emptive consolation.

"You are, Chris, you really are - because if you don't do this, I am going to come down there and kick your ass."

"You can try," Chris said. "Fuck, J, I am not going to look like some washed up desperado clinging to his last piece of fame and scrounging for money."

"You aren't a washed up desperado, Chris, even if you do need to get out and do something with your life." More feedback screeched down the phone. "Can you guys please sort that problem out before I go deaf," Justin shouted away from the phone.

"I'm doing something!" Chris tossed his empty into the trash can by the pool.

"Yeah. Getting stoned on the sofa. I'm not letting you off the hook. Lance came out; you need to be on a reality TV show. The end. Period."

*

Chris jiggled his leg as the phone rang. When it picked up, he stood and started pacing. "Lance, old friend, old buddy. What are your contacts like these days?"

"What contacts?" Lance asked.

"Industry contacts, dipshit," said Chris. "Your newfound honesty lost me a bet with Justin and now I have to humiliate my ass on reality TV."

"Why don't you just guest on Cribs or Rachel Ray or something? They're always looking for people. Or you could always do What Not to Wear. Finally get some decent clothes."

"Oh, ha ha ha, Bass. And that's not going to cut it. Justin specified a full season of 'fly on the wall' or something competitive." Chris opened the fridge and stared at the contents. "He actually suggested Survivor. Can you believe that bullshit?"

"Chris, why are you even thinking about doing this?"

Lance sounded bemused and Chris thought that might be just a little offensive. "Because I don't back out of bets. I haven't done it yet and I'm not about to start now."

"And because it's Justin," said Lance.

"What?"

"If it was me or Joe you'd be doing everything you can to get out of it."

"I would not." Chris stuck his tongue out at the phone on principle. "Just because you have some kind of whacked out insecurity complex is no reason to..."

"I don't have an insecurity complex Chris, I'm perfectly-"

"-content. Yeah, yeah. It has nothing to do with Justin, other than he's actually more likely to make my life hell if I don't do it." Chris grabbed the baloney and mayo and dumped them on the bench.

"Uh huh. Sure," Lance said.

"Well. Do you know anyone who can help? Hey! Didn't your boyfriend win one of these shows? Race around the world or something? I'd be good at that, I bet." Chris imagined himself in dingy, hole-in-the-wall bars in exotic countries with long names. He could totally do that.

"The Amazing Race, and you need a partner, you can't do it on your own." Lance sounded like he was frowning. "Besides, Reichen said it was pretty tough."

"Crap. That probably won't work then. Maybe if JC did it with me?"

"I don't think JC wants to be on reality TV, Chris."

"Well, neither do I! It's all your fault," Chris said. "And stop laughing!"

"Mmm hmm. So you said." Lance didn't sound the least bit repentant.

"Well, it is!"

"Chris," Lance sighed, "it's… I'll talk to Reichen, okay. See who he knows."

"Great! I'm gonna call JC."

"Sure."

*

"JC!" Chris was back to dangling his feet in the pool, beer in hand.

"No."

"What! You don't even know why I'm calling."

"I spoke to you two days ago, Chris," said JC. "Given the average frequency of our conversations is once a month, I'd say you want me to do something."

"Have you been watching the Discovery Channel again?" Chris watched the water ripple away from his kicking legs. "You should stop doing that. It makes you think you're a scientist or some shit."

"No. Anyway, not that it's not nice to talk to you again, but why are you calling?" Music started playing softly in the background.

"I think we should go on The Awesome Race together. It'd be great publicity for your album, man." Chris kicked his feet in a little two step beat.

"I think you mean The Amazing Race, Chris, and now the answer is definitely no. Besides, you're the one who lost the bet. Why should I have to suffer too?"

"You shouldn't," Chris said. "Justin should. But he already lost when Joey got married and damn it if I can work out how the hell he managed to make a stupid ass tag line like 'I'm bringing sexy back' work."

"It's J, dude. You know he has the golden touch," JC said, without a trace of bitterness.

"Fucker." Chris scowled. "It still should have been mocked way more than it was. That was comedy gold when we made this fucking bet and suddenly five years later the shithead has the cred and balls to make it work. I hate him."

"You don't hate Justin, Chris."

"Oh. I do." He nodded to emphasize the point to himself. "You have no idea. You really won't do The Amazing Race with me?"

"No," said JC.

"Fuck. I'll have to find someone else."

"Okay. You do that. I promise to watch."

"Ha! You're a kinky fucker, I knew it!"

"Bye, Chris," JC said and disconnected.

*

"Justin, it's just not possible," Chris said.

"I don't care, Chris. You are going to get your ass out of the house and onto my TV. I don't care what you have to do to get there."

"I don't have any options?"

"Not unless you want to move in with me and live in sin for the rest of our natural lives."

"Right. I have to call Lance." Chris hung up and dumped the phone.

*

"Lance! Tell me you have good news."

"No go, Chris. Sorry."

Chris frowned. "But I have to do this. There aren't any other options."

"C'mon, Chris," Lance said. "I think you're being melodramatic."

"I am not, asshole."

"Don't call me asshole, and you totally are."

"Look," Chris said. "I can't do Survivor or Fear Factor because I'm not eating any gross bugs or weird shit, and there's no way I'm going to let them put me on some platform a billion feet in the air. Apparently I'm over-qualified for American Idol, which would be beyond embarrassing and Justin says auditioning isn't enough, and under-qualified for So You Think You Can Dance - not that I want to do that anyway. Dancing with the Stars is already full for the next season, even though they haven't confirmed anything yet. Joey beat me to that anyway, the fucker, and they weren't interested in having two former Nsync members - which is completely stupid by the way, because they totally could have played up the rivalry."

"Chris." Lance interrupted.

"They canned the idea for a celebrity Big Brother. Finally something I'm still famous enough for and it dies before it starts." He sighed.

"Chris." Lance tried again.

"You couldn't have come out a year ago," Chris whined. "At least then I could have done Surreal Life."

"Oh, Chris. That's just sad." Lance was clearly amused, the asshole. "Why don't you just talk to Justin. I'm sure he won't make you do anything like that."

"We are talking about the same Justin here, right," said Chris. "Timberlake? Shoulders you can hang off? Hips more slinky than Ricky Martin? Holds a grudge for a millennium? That Justin?"

"I know which Justin you mean, moron. I just think that if you actually talked to him, you might find another way to resolve this."

"Sure," Chris said. "Thanks for nothing, Bass. Say hi to the boyfriend."

*

The moment the line connected, Chris spoke. "Dude. I may have to back out."

"Don't you dare, Kirkpatrick."

"You don't understand, asshole. It is apparently impossible for a former boy band legend to get a spot on reality TV. I completely missed the bandwagon. Fucking, Bass." Chris poked at his toe and wondered if the right pinky nail was in-grown.

"Chris. I don't care what you have to do, but you have to do something. Ever since Little Red Monsters imploded you've been wasting away."

"I don't think you could call it wasting away, exactly, it's more doubling in size." He twisted around to check out his ass. "And it didn't implode."

"Chris, it did," Justin said. "Please just admit it, okay, and find something else to channel your energy."

"What energy, J. You know I ran out of that years ago."

Justin's voice was flat. "Yeah."

"Justin. What's going on?" Chris hopped off the sofa and started walking laps around the TV room.

"I worry about you, man. You aren't living anymore. You're just surviving."

Chris stopped and stared at the phone. "Justin, you fool. I get out. I do stuff. I'm fine, J. Really, I am."

"But, Chris." Justin didn't sound ready to let up.

"No fucking buts, J. I'm fine except for this stupid bet." He started moving again, sidestepping over the pattern in the rug.

"You don't have to, you know," Justin said. "I just thought… maybe it'd be a good way for you to get back out there. Be seen again. Remind people of how awesome you are."

"Justin."

"No," said Justin. "No it's okay. If you don't want to do the bet, I'm cool."

"You were never cool, infant," Chris said. "I'll do the bet. Somewhere there has to be a reality show willing to have me. Stop worrying your pretty head. Okay?"

"Yeah. Okay"

*

"So I got a call," Chris said as he pushed the cart.

"Mmm?" Joey leant down and plucked a sack of flour from his daughter's tiny hands. "Bri, honey, don't touch that. Daddy's picking out the groceries."

"Some production company heard that I was looking to do a reality show – this is what happens when you call everyone in Hollywood, people know you're desperate."

"You aren't desperate, Chris." Joey dropped a gallon of juice into the cart.

"Tell them that, asshole."

"Justin already said you don't have to do it. So why are you still going ahead?"

"It's a matter of principle," said Chris. "Justin seems to think that I'm a sad case who never leaves the house. Just because he doesn't like my music…"

Joey snorted. "He hasn't heard your music, Chris. He can't know if he likes it or not."

"Well whose fault is that?" He hauled the cart to a stop as Bri ran in front of it.

"Uh. Yours," said Joey.

"It is not," Chris said.

"Chris, you've refused to let him listen to anything other than what's leaked on the internet. It's entirely your fault that Justin thinks you do nothing more than party and sit around playing Xbox."

"It is not," Chris said again.

"It really is, Chris." Joey picked Briahna up and settled her against his hip. "You've been weird around J ever since the last Challenge."

"You, my man, are clearly on crack."

"Whatever," said Joey. "What's the offer?"

"It's called _Man Band._ A bunch of has-been refugees -- stop laughing -- from loser bands get to form a new band and try to re-claim their former singing and dancing glory."

"Oh, man." Joey wiped at his eyes and Chris hit the back of his head.

"Shut up."

"You're an idiot, Chris," he said. "You swore you weren't going to do the teeny thing any more when we went on the break, and Justin's already said he'll let you out of the bet, so why the hell are you going to do it?"

Chris studied the jars of jelly. "Maybe Justin's right. Maybe if I do this my other stuff'll take off."

"Sure," said Joey, "because the target audience is exactly the same."

"Whatever," Chris said. "My agent's handling it now."

"Chris. Dude." Joey dropped a few jars into the cart and prodded Chris to keep moving.

"It'll be fun! I'll be way cooler than any of the other guys. People will love me."

"People already love you, Chris."

"Yeah, but you guys don't pay my bills." Chris winked. "Well, not any more."

*

"Hey, J."

"Hey." Justin sounded like he was smiling. "So I hear you found someone willing to take your sorry ass?"

"Sure did," said Chris, bouncing on his toes. "The Kirkpatrick ass is once again in demand."

Justin snort-laughed. "Was it ever?"

"Of course it was," Chris said, "far and wide. Far and wide, baby."

"And now it's just wide." The sound of him slapping his leg as he laughed traveled down the line.

"Fucker. You love my ass."

"You know I do, Chris," he said. "So what's the scoop? When do you start filming?"

"Don't know yet. They're still looking for one more guy, and our contracts are still being finalized." Chris lapped the kitchen one more time.

"Make sure you have control, dude. You don't want them to make you look like an ass."

"Sure, J," Chris said. "Do you want to wipe my ass for me too?"

"Chris." Justin wasn't laughing any more.

"I know, I know. You care."

"Dick," Justin said. "Of course I care."

"I'm fine, J. I don't know how many times I have to say it." Chris paused and opened the fridge. There was still nothing to eat.

"Until I'm convinced loser. You know you don't have to do this right."

"I told you I'm not going wimp out."

"But Chris," Justin said, "Man Band isn't Sexy Back."

"And I'm not you." He shut the fridge with a thud.

"No. No, dude. That's not what I meant."

"Whatever, asshole. We can't all be charismatic golden boys with perfect girlfriends and platinum records." Chris wasn't stomping at all; he was just moving from one room to another with heavy footsteps.

"Chris…"

"No, no. You're right. It's not Sexy Back, but, hey, at least I'm not stoned on the sofa, right?" He flopped onto said sofa.

"Chris, I'm sorry," Justin said. "You know I didn't mean to…"

"Imply that I'm washed up and pathetic?"

"Fuck! Chris!" Justin sounded like he was the one pacing now. "Listen to me, asshole. That came out all wrong. I just wanted you to know that I'm not going to hold you to this if it's going to hurt your career. You're important to me, man, and I don't want to be responsible for fucking anything up for you."

"Okay," Chris said.

"Really?"

"Really. I'll pull out if I think it's going to suck or, you know, fuck up my career even more than it is now." Chris stuck a hand between the cushions, scrounging for the TV remote.

"Dude." Justin sounded like a kid again, Chris thought.

"It's okay, J," he said. "I'll talk to you later."

"Love you, man."

"Yeah."

*

"Am I being a drama queen," Chris asked as he parked his butt on the sofa in JC's studio.

"You're never a drama queen, Chris."

"You are such a sarcastic bitch, JC."

JC grinned. "And I love it."

"Twisted freak," Chris said. "Seriously, maybe I should swallow my pride and not do the show."

JC looked at him, head cocked. "Seems to me you're swallowing your pride doing the show."

"There must be some fucking way I could get my ass reality TV that's dignified?"

"You're getting ass reality TV? I didn't know they did that. I mean I have cable in my bathroom, but they haven't wired my ass yet." JC's expression didn't even change.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Oh, ha fucking ha, bitch. Mock the man while he's down why don't you?"

"Okay," JC said. "But tell me, how do they deliver reality TV to your ass and is there really such a thing as dignified reality TV? I might sign up."

Chris leant forward and smacked JC's arm. "Fucker. I meant to say 'my ass _on_ reality TV."

"Uhuh." JC nodded. "Honestly, Chris, I think you're putting your dignity on the line doing this show. Publicity is good, sure, and it could be a good way to kick start something, but have you considered that it might put you in more of a box than we're all in already?"

"No, JC, I just made this decision without thinking of the consequences at all. Besides," Chris said, "when have I ever had dignity?"

"And now who's the sarcastic bitch?" JC killed the power to the mixer and squashed right next to Chris on the sofa.

"I just…don't know, dude." Chris sighed. "I thought it was a fucking idiotic idea when we made the stupid bet, and then Lance, asshole, actually came out. I hoped J would forget, but I knew he wouldn't. That kid has a memory like an elephant."

"He's not a kid any more," JC said.

"No. He's an international super-stah." He let his head fall against the sofa back.

"What changed your mind, Chris? When did you think it might be a good idea?"

"I don't know 'C. Maybe when I got tired of Justin calling me lazy?"

"Chris, man." JC put a hand on Chris' shoulder.

"I know he doesn't mean it," Chris said, "but that doesn't mean it's not true."

JC hit him. "You ass. You know that's not fucking true. You've been writing some great shit, man. Don't doubt yourself like a neurotic kid; you're better than that, even if you do act like one."

"Oh, fuck you. Why do I ever think you'll give me good advice?"

"No idea," said JC. "Brain damage?"

"Must be." Chris sighed again.

This time JC patted his arm. "So what are you going to do?"

"There's not much I can do," he said. "I signed the contract."

"Chris…"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time." Chris rolled his eyes at his own stupidity.

"Talk to Justin, asshole. You know he'll let go, dude. You just have to ask."

"The contract, JC."

"There's always a way, Chris," JC said. "You know that better than anyone."

*

"So, I've been thinking," Chris said as his counted the steps from the master bedroom to the game room.

"Do you want some Advil for the pain," Justin asked.

"Funny." Fifteen.

"Nine out of ten SNL viewers think so."

"Some people wouldn't know funny if it hit them in the head," Chris replied. Nineteen. "Anyway, like I said, I've been thinking and I'm not so sure doing this show is a good idea."

"God, Chris!" Justin was practically shouting. "Of course it's not a good idea. There's no way in the world I'd insist on you doing this, it'd be a disaster."

"Gee, thanks." Twenty-five and a half.

"Oh, fuck you, Chris. You know I'm thinking of you here. You've been writing some cool stuff and this thing just doesn't work with that. The vibe's all wrong." Justin sighed and it echoed down the phone line.

"So you'd be okay with me doing something else instead? I could pay out the debt or something."

"You could come on tour with me."

"It'd be a little crowded with Cameron, don't you think," Chris said. Thirty-two. "She might not appreciate a third wheel."

"Shut up. You know Cam's just for show. Besides, we could get you your own trailer; maybe organize a small support slot at some gigs."

"I'm not a charity, J." Forty-one. Chris sat on the edge of the pool table.

"No," Justin said quietly. "You're my friend and I love you." He paused. "Let me do this, man."

"I'll think about it," Chris said. "I have to get out of the contract I signed first."

"Um…"

"What?" Chris narrowed his eyes. He knew that tone. "Justin. What do you know?"

"Well, let's just say that I don't think you'll have too much trouble breaking the contract."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing," Justin said. "It's just…"

Chris growled at him. "You fucker. Spit it out."

"I might have setup a production company to create a show," he said at speed.

"Say that again; a little slower this time."

"Uh."

"Just fucking tell me, Justin," Chris said.

"I, uh, set up the production company that's running the show."

Chris squeezed the eight ball in his hand. "You did not. I didn't recognize any of the names involved, and I checked."

"There may have been dummy corporations involved."

"What the fuck, Justin?" He squeezed the ball a little tighter and watched his knuckles turn white.

"I did it for you," Justin said. "You get that, right?

"Yeah, I get it. I'm just not sure why."

"I wanted you to get what you wanted, dude. I didn't like seeing you being…"

Chris dropped the ball back onto the table. "Rejected?"

"Yeah. Sorry." Justin's voice was quiet.

"How much money did that cost, J? Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not. You'll still come out, right?"

"Yeah," Chris said. "I'll come out. No gigs though."

"But, Chris…"

"No buts, J. This is gonna be on my terms. We'll sort out the bet when I get there."

"Okay."

*

"Do you know what that little asshole did?" Chris clutched the phone close to his ear.

"Take it easy, Chris."

"No way, JC. He set the whole thing up. I was ready to humiliate myself in public-"

"Again."

"-again." Chris conceded. "And he was behind it the whole time. If it was his production company, why didn't he make it a better show instead of something that might have been so completely humiliating?"

"Would you have believed it if you were approached to do anything different," JC asked.

"Yes! Maybe…" Chris groaned. "Okay probably not, but that's beside the point."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Of course I'm not!"

"Chris," said JC. "He was just trying to help. He didn't think you'd just accept that he was freeing you of your obligation."

Chris narrowed his eyes. "What do you know, JC? Has he been talking to you about this?"

"We're friends, Chris. He's supposed to talk to me, just like you are right now."

"I feel so betrayed."

JC muttered under his breath. "Chris," he said. "You know J cares about you right?"

Chris nodded. "Yeah. So? That doesn't mean I'm letting this go."

"Isn't he letting the bet go?"

"He's the bigger man, blah blah." Chris bounced on the balls of his feet. "I'm happy to be petty in this instance. Besides, he's making me go on tour with him."

"He's _making_ you go on tour? You do know you sound insane?"

"So what's new," Chris asked.

"Chris. Think back to what it's like on tour for a minute. Do you think J would even suggest it if he didn't really want you there?"

Chris frowned. Tour was a bitch. "Huh."

JC kept going. "And do you think he'd create a production company to make up a fake show for anyone else?"

"Depends…"

"Bullshit," JC said. "He did it because he was worried about you and because he loves you."

"He's an insane little freak."

JC snorted. "Look who's talking. Just, show a little…consideration. He was only trying to help."

"Consideration? What? What the hell are you getting at, JC?"

"C'mon Chris," he said. "Even you aren't this stupid."

*

Chris stomped into the dressing room and dropped into the chair beside Justin. "So, ah, I may have had a revelation. About you. Us. You and me."

Justin looked at him and then back to the mirror. "I know what us means, Chris."

Chris nodded. "Right. Sure. Anyway, the thing is, I don't think I believe it, because there's no way it's what I think it is. But, on the other hand, I can't ignore it. I mean, it might become a _thing_, and _things_ suck. Especially on tour buses; especially between friends. God. Remember when Lance had that embarrassingly awkward crush on JC and everything was just _weird_?"

"That was you, Chris," Justin said.

"What?"

Justin was laughing outright now. "Lance had a crush on you, you fool."

"What? He did not."

"Oh, he most definitely did," Justin said.

Chris picked at the fluff on his pants. "Really? Huh."

Justin nodded. "So, you had a revelation?" He didn't look at Chris at all.

"What?"

"You. Had a revelation. About us."

Chris looked down at his pants and then at Justin. "Oh yeah. Right. My revelation. Um. Are you in lo-"

Chris didn't get to finish; Justin leant forward and kissed him, soft and lingering. When it was over, he kept his face beside Chris', cheek to cheek, and said, "Idiot."


End file.
